We sat there, enjoying the moment. Laughing, talking and eating, while others shared their work. I had lamb for the second time in my life, but it was the first time that I engage with such a beautiful mind, one that Russell Crowe would admire. We shared poetry and intimate stories about past loves and relationships. “Are there anymore who would like to speak tonight?” The crooked face, silver haired man shouted. We turned to each other with smiles that were exposing premature laughter, eyes edging the other to perform. “Want you go?” she said. Euphonious words sneaking through her commercial smile. “Naw, I’m not ready yet” I said disappointed in my self. “Maybe next time, you should go though” “Nope! I’ll go when you go” she snapped back. More laughter…
I was introduced to her by a couple of coworkers during happy hour a few years back, she went by the name Elisha. Red bone, with a Nubian touch, thick in the right places, I was visually amazed. But received the vibe that she wasn’t looking nor interested in what my immature mind had to offer. We shook hands sparingly. “Nice to meet you” she said “Likewise” as I glanced past the frames that contradicted the beauty of her eyes. As our contact faded away slowly, I pondered the word of a prolific writer… My vision has captured the world’s most beautiful eyes, emitting the mysteries of a profound soul… I quickly gathered myself, mentally brushing the dust of my swagg. The night was young, but I grew older as I blended in with the mature crowd. I watched her movements as we all relaxed and socialized.
The silver haired man introduced the next speaker. An older woman, well aged and very well spoken, who wore a scarf that tailed in the front way below her waist. She also wore a hat that represented the Fall weather that invited itself to mother’s nature party. She was the guest speaker for the night and had had a lot of poems to share. She took us upon her journey. A journey that was splendid but had the felling of a never ending story. “You ready to jet?” I whispered “Whenever you are” she replied “Aight lets cut” I said sharply. We gathered our belongings and applied our warmth protectors to our bodies. The guest speaker glanced as we prepared for the early exit. She waved goodbye as an appreciation for what we did listen to. We replied in unison with the same action. We were then escorted out by waiters who appreciated their jobs, and assisted in making this night a lovely one. As she cleaned off her specs, she looked into my face and asked “where to now” I froze like the midst in a cold winter, as I caught a glimpse of those familiar eyes. “Macarthur Bart” I mumbled as I went into thought.
It was a year ago on a Thursday, a weird day I thought to be holding an event such as this one. As I stood camouflaged with the youngsters I figured it shouldn’t take too long given that they have school in the morning. A positive outlook. I didn’t want to be there, around a bunch of overexcited teenagers, who were giddy about the Turf Dancers from L.A. My god-brother was hosting the show and told me he needed a hand. I raced over after work, and was intrigued at the fact that I got to watch the fashion show models practice. Another plus. The show was going smooth, it was very electric inside, surprised me on how much energy and emotion was put into it. I helped where I could, but ended up being the curtain boy. And there she was a beauty, sitting in the last chair of the middle section of the first row. Familiar looking but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “I know her from somewhere” I thought to myself. A thought that became as irritating as a persistent fly. “Where do I know her from” I ask myself over the course of the show. By this time she had noticed my consistent stare. I then focused on the job at hand every time our eyes came close to meeting. I eventually conceded on figuring out where I knew her from, instead concentrating on her rare beauty. Red bone, with a Nubian touch, tantalizing eyes. I decided to approach and maybe see if she knew me or at least use that as a starter. As I walked towards her I noticed she was a mature woman just with a teenaged face. She was accompanied by two little girls. “I know you from somewhere, or you was in my dreams or something.” I opened hoping to induce a laugh. “Oh really” she replied sarcastically no smile in sight. “Yeah one of the two, kinda scarring me though.” No response, as she lifted the youngest child who was half sleep. “Would you like a hand, I’m on my way too.” “Naw I got it, I’m used to it.” She said, given me my reason to pursue. “Well, I can at least walk you guys out, you know these youngstaz can get wild sometimes.” I chuckled trying to be a mature gentleman. She agreed. “Sure that’ll be nice of you.” “Cool.” We walked and talked, I explained my reason of being there. She did the same, expression her daughters’ enjoyment for the art. I examined her curves as she adjusted the seat belt across her daughter’s fragile chest. “You have a lovely family, their father must be proud.” I said with a conniving thought. “He is” she snapped. But that wasn’t good enough to stop my persistence. “Is he around” I asked. “For them” she replied “O’ okay I get it.” I said with a smile. “We should exchange numbers, meet up for coffee something.” She blushed and I swear she could have been a model for a Colgate commercial. “That sounds fine.” She proceeded to give me her number, as I dialed it in my phone. I was so excited I almost forgot to get her name, so as I was walking off I asked. “Elisha” she shouted.
We shared our thoughts about the open mic as we rode the boulevard. I watched the street lights as the were glowing, reminded me of moments passing. Good Moments. We were comparing the urban open mic to the more conservative. We agreed that both feed the soul in their own way. We also talked about how good the Indian cuisine was. Also noting how we were going to pay for it later. It was a wonderful night that I felt we both enjoyed. We even committed the cardinal sin for writers, by discussing future projects. We shared internal secrets about them also, and how we planned to incorporate our lives in with the fiction. We had similar ideas. “You can let me out here” I said interrupting the flow of conversation. “O’ okay, thank you again for everything” she said softly. “The pleasure was all mine, trust me, thank you! For your time” I replied generously. “Okay have a good night, see you later” she said. “Oh for sure” I snapped back, but in my mind I was thinking definitely! No Goodbyes, but a ‘see you later’, just insurance of seeing her again. I walked off towards the station securing my bag on my back. Unveiling an irremovable smile. “See you later” I said to myself. Leaving the ending open to a new beginning…
Sirr Pope
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